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He leaned toward her. “Use me.”
Her hands fell to her lap. “What?”
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He’d been looking for an opening and she’d just handed him the ideal opportunity. “Take me as your date to the premiere. Use me to show that loser ex-boyfriend of yours that you aren’t shedding any tears over him. At the risk of sounding as if I have an overinflated ego, magazines seem to think I’m a fairly eligible bachelor.”
“So I’ve seen.” She toyed with the thin velvet ribbon around her neck, nudging the small bell just above the top button on her blouse. A hell of a distraction for his eyes. “But use you? Wouldn’t that be shallow of me?”
“Not if we’re both in agreement.”
“What do you gain from this?”
Bella back in his bed?
But a smart man would lead with another argument and no one had ever called him a fool. “For starters, I get to take a breather from appearing on all those damn ‘most eligible bachelor’ lists. Every time they publish one, a fresh flock of matchmaking mamas shows up at one of my hotels. It’s insulting to me and to their daughters. Not to mention a real pain in the ass.”
“Okay, I can understand that.” She nodded slowly. “I have to leave tomorrow.”
“Not a problem.” He only slept for a few hours anyway. He could wrap up business and be ready by sunup. He’d been planning a trip later next week after Christmas anyhow. “Any other questions?”
“Yeah,” she said empathically, “a big one. Why me?”
“Because I can be honest with you about this and know you’re not going to run to the press.”
She smiled grudgingly. “You have me there.”
“You agree?” That easily. Hot damn. Peeling her clothes off her after that premiere would make for a night to remember. He would pleasure her so thoroughly he would wipe Ridley Sinclair from her memory forever.
“We’re not sleeping together again.”
“Seems like you’re cutting your nose off to spite your face with that one.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. He knew to quit when he was ahead, and he’d definitely taken a huge step ahead in getting her to agree to let him hang out with her over the holidays. “But, hell, who am I to judge? No sex. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Agreed?”
She hesitated only a moment, frowning briefly before her face cleared. “I have the feeling I’m going to regret this…but…yes. We’ll go to the Christmas-day premiere together.”
Six
As Bella sat on Sam’s plane the next morning on her way back to the States, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said yes to his outrageous proposition.
Petting Muffin in her lap, Bella stared out the window at the Atlantic Ocean peeking below while the plane zipped in and out of clouds. Footsteps echoed as Sam walked to the front of the plane, toward the kitchenette for a snack, his long legs eating up the space in only a few strides.
She knew one thing for sure. Sam was a damn good businessman. He’d presented the case well for sticking together awhile longer, knowing right where she was most vulnerable. Her pride stung at the thought of facing Ridley alone.
Yet Sam had agreed to her no sex stipulation.
Her gaze dipped to his fine tush showcased in casual blue pants. In a weak moment she wondered what he would look like filling out a pair of well-washed jeans?
She shook off the too-enticing fantasy. She’d meant what she’d said about no sex, especially not now when she was so confused and, well, weak when it came to his appeal. She wasn’t one for flings, in fact didn’t have much of a dating past other than Ridley because of her drive to break out in her career.
Had Sam been lying about keeping his distance, or was he really genuine about seeing benefits in helping her out? Maybe he was just one of those gallant guys who couldn’t resist a woman in distress.
After the way his mother had been treated, Bella could understand how he would have developed that tendency. Maybe he didn’t really have a hidden agenda. Perhaps he genuinely had business to accomplish and figured he would be a good guy along the way.
Her initial idea for facing Ridley at the premiere had been to borrow one of her brothers for the evening. But how lame was that? Sam would make for a powerful piece of eye candy to distract gossip-hungry people from wondering why she and Ridley were no longer an item.
She could ruminate about this all morning, but regardless, her escape to France was officially over. She couldn’t hide from her family’s drama anymore. Thanks to Sam, she wouldn’t be facing everyone alone.
Bella sagged back in her seat, sliding the shade closed over the small oval airplane window. She scrubbed her fists along her gritty eyes. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning all night as she worried if she’d made the right choice in coming back to the States with Sam. A yawn stretched her face.
The bed behind the privacy door was inviting, but she feared sending the wrong message. Hell, she feared her own willpower weakening if she crawled onto a mattress with Sam anywhere near. She was better off making use of the additional sleeper chairs out here.
Was she cutting off her nose to spite her face, as he’d said?
No, damn it. She wasn’t in any position for a new relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to her.
Caffeine, yeah, that was the ticket. She just needed more caffeine to jolt her awake and get her brain working again.
She unbuckled her lap belt, placed sleeping Muffin on the seat and strode forward to the small kitchen area where Sam had headed a few minutes earlier. “Anything with caffeine up here?”
Sam’s back tensed at her words, his shoulders rising ever so slightly. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and turned toward her. “Coffee, tea, soda, your choice. Let me know and I’ll pour it for you. The steward is up with the pilot right now.”
“I can serve myself.” She sidled by him in the narrow galley kitchen. Very narrow. The heat of his body permeated through her thin blouse, his chest grazing her breasts. “What are you having?”
“Just bottled water.” He angled past and out of her way, even as his silvery-gray gaze stayed locked in tight on her.
Bella opened the stainless-steel mini-refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke from the rows of neatly arranged beverages, fresh fruits and cheeses inside. She considered fishing through the dark mahogany cabinets for a cup and ice, but her hands had started shaking right about the time his body had rubbed ever so enticingly against hers. She wrapped a napkin around the can and popped the top.
A bracing gulp later, she worked to establish some emotional distance again. “I appreciate your help with the Ridley issue, but I want to make sure you understand. No more interfering with my family like you did by calling Charlotte’s husband.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You’re lying.”
He leaned against the bulkhead, his feet crossed in front of him. The sun glinted through the oval window highlighting hints of russet in his deep brown hair. “You sure are a charmer today, Bella.” He smiled wide and wicked. “Why would you accuse me of something so devious?”
She wadded her napkin and tossed it at his chest. “Because you have a reputation for being ruthless when you want your way.”
Beyond his success in the work world, she’d heard rumors he changed women with the season.
“I make no secret of being a driven, determined person.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Of course that could mean you’re reckless in climbing onto my airplane.”
“Ha-ha. Not amused.” She passed him his bottled water. “If we’re going to give this ‘friends’ thing an honest go, then you need to be truthful with me.”
Sam stiffened, only a hint and only for a second, but enough to make her wonder what he was covering up.
He reached for his drink, taking it with his left hand, rather than his right, which he kept stuffed in his pocket.
Like he was hiding something.
She thought back to when she’d come to the galley. He’d only been drinking water. What else could he have…
An awful, awful possibility—probability—flooded her mind. She’d seen the look and stance often enough when walking in on people at inopportune times at parties or raves.
Oh, my God. Sam was hiding more than she’d thought, something she never would have considered. “What were you doing here before I walked up?”
“Getting a drink of water, like I said.” His face went totally blank.
His complete lack of expression spoke louder than anything else. He should have been at ease.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Like hell. I’ve been around Hollywood types all my life. I’ve seen more than my share of alcohol and drug abuse.” Disillusionment threatened to swamp her even as her anger topped the charts. “You’re popping pills.”
His jaw dropped open for a flash, then snapped shut.
But he didn’t deny it.
She stood her ground. She might be hurt, but she was also mad as hell and she wasn’t backing down. “I may have to put up with that kind of behavior from those I work with, but I absolutely will not tolerate it in my private life.”
His frozen face cleared and…he laughed. Not just a chuckle, but head-back, full-out laughter that muffled even the drone of the airplane engines. Was that what his drugs did for him? Separate him from reality so thoroughly he found this amusing?
